


change in dynamics.

by projectfreelancer



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/projectfreelancer/pseuds/projectfreelancer
Summary: tucker & wash deal with their issues on a roadtrip.





	change in dynamics.

**Author's Note:**

> this doesnt have much of a plot because i just wanted tucker to be bpd with unrequited churchtucker and wash to be gay but all in a road trip setting. so why they're on a roadtrip, i dont know, and thats why it starts so abruptly. set post-season 10.
> 
> this is moreso rushed and may be a bit ooc but like i said, its all self-indulgent anyways.
> 
> WARNING FOR: implied sexual abuse between director/wash

 “I just want what is best for the team. Epsilon and Carolina clearly did not want us to find them, so—”  

“All I want is _my_ best friend back, Wash,” Tucker interrupts, his words like knives.

Wash wants to say something like: _You know I’m not your enemy right; I actually admire you; When I was 18 I was put into Project Freelancer and; I know you hate me but I’m not trying to replace Church; Well_ **_you’re_ ** _obsessed with the person who ruined my life._

Instead, he says nothing. The Director taught him many things, and one of the golden rules was that silence should never be underestimated. His eyes are glossy as he stares at the road ahead of them, wide-empty, as if it plans on eating them right up, and he ignores how Tucker’s hands grip the steering wheel so tight it seems as if he’s afraid of the exact same thing.

In the end, Wash says nothing because it is easier than expecting Tucker to accept they are more similar than they want to be. And if he says nothing and pretends to not notice when Tucker turns down the radio as Wash goes to try to sleep, he says nothing because Church would say nothing.

The _thank you; i admire you; he abused me and you know who i’m talking about_ all die on his tongue, and his eyes drift slowly shut with exhaustion.

—

Wash does not know how to lead a team, let alone a team who is chasing after the man who ruined his life, or a team that is used to a leader that never led. Wash is completely, utterly lost. He imagines York or CT would know what to do. Or hell, even South would be better at this than him. York could bond with anyone, CT knew every strategy there was to learn, South demanded your respect as soon as you saw her. He was the black sheep of the Project—and everyone knew it too.

He was the one the UNSC abandoned, the one with the temper issues, the one who bargained himself into redemption and absolution of all his sins in the hands of The Director.

Wash knows he’s in over his head; they don’t _really_ need him; he’s fooling himself into thinking he’ll find a real family.

And when he finds Caboose crying on their hotel room's floor, finds Tucker whispering to him in a low voice, he can only make out the faintest words of _Church_ and _will come back_. And he’s trying to be a leader, trying to absolve his sins in the hands of this misfit team now, but when Tucker glares at him as he tries to walk near them, he feels sick to his stomach and turns to leave them alone.

The Epsilon in his mind says, _they’ll never trust you._

Wash cannot find it in himself to disagree with the voice in his mind.

 

—

**You’d be surprised by what I know, Director**

Wash considers telling Tucker the truth often. Isn’t sure how much it will help either of them, but imagines it could. Imagines the truth of the horrors he saw in the Project and in Epsilon roll off his tongue. Maybe Tucker would look at him as if he is not a monster, or will trust him, or will tell him he forgives him for the things Wash had no control over.

He could say: _Epsilon was tortured, and he tortured me. I saw him die in every way imaginable. I told them i knew nothing. I saw Allison’s smile burned into my mind and I saw Carolina crying as a girl and I saw—_

He could say: _The Director used to call me into his office late at night and take off his clothes and do things that you make so many jokes about. He forgave me my sins of disobeying orders, or saving the troops that were going to die, or smashing that boy’s face into the mirror, or—_

He could say: _The UNSC abandoned me, they didn’t want me, I still have nightmares that one day all my friends will be dead, you’re not even my friend but if you died—_

He tells Tucker nothing, and the nightmares get worse with each passing night they drive on in silence.

 

—

 

They’re stopped at a gas station, miles away from the next hotel, red-hot sun and sand itching at Wash’s skin. It’s hot, too humid, nothing like the swallowed air of Mother of Invention or the cool breeze of Valhalla. He feels claustrophobia itch at his skin. Had excused himself from one of Caboose’s ramblings as he exited the car and went to stand next to Tucker who pumps the gas without a word.

Tucker, cigarette in mouth, does not look up at his presence. Treats him like a ghost; treats him like how he should be treating Church. Like a ghost, something to forget, to ignore. Tucker treats him with a disdain that he has not tasted since Project Freelancer.

Wash, knowing he has nothing to lose at this point, says, “Epsilon was my A.I. He killed himself in my mind. He showed me all his memories, and he—” A deep inhale, lungs struck with a bitter aching. “Church wasn’t a good guy.”

 

Tucker’s hand on the gas pump (gripping like he’s afraid, he’s always afraid, _he’s afraid of you_ is Epsilon’s ghost-voice in his mind) drop to his side. His eyes meet Wash’s, and for a second it is as if they are on equal ground. As if Wash admitting to the depraved secrets of his life is enough to make Tucker look at him and say something like: _i admire you too; i want you as our leader; i know you don’t know shit about leading but you’re trying and i’m proud of you and—_

“Maybe _your_ Church was a bad guy, but mine isn’t,” is what the true Tucker responds with. Slides the pump out of the car, paying with Wash’s card, and slamming the door when he steps back into the car.

Wash can almost hear the echo of The Director saying his name—his _real_ name—and feels it blur with the memory of _but mine isn’t._

And as if God believes he can handle another voice in his mind, Epsilon ghost-whispers, _he’s disgusted by you._

The ride to their next hotel is filled with a silence so deadly that not even Caboose says a word.

 

—

Days go by without Tucker and Wash saying much to each other. Caboose makes up for most of the silence, rambling stories and rantings about anything that crosses his mind. Wash is grateful for the distraction, grateful to have anything on his mind besides the resentment that the other blue holds for him.

 

—

 

The Director taught him many things, a cozy list snuggled into Wash’s mind, encompassing all he has become:

  1. How to betray your loved ones for your benefit
  2. How to let memories choke you
  3. How to swallow when your mouth is full
  4. How to break



 

The list is endless, another misplaced voice in Wash’s mind, every lesson the wretched man taught him.

The Director never taught him what to do when you’re in the same bed as a man who is beautiful and who blames you for everything and who aches for the man who ruined your life.

In his most blasphemous and rebellious moments, Wash thinks that the Project didn’t prepare them very well for the real life battles.

It wasn’t either of their’s choice. The hotel was small, overcrowded, could only offer them one room with two beds. A part of Wash had hoped that Caboose and Tucker would choose each other, Wash is very used to being alone, Caboose and Tucker have known each other through tragedy’s Wash has yet to even learn about.

He had forgotten the minor details in his assumption: Caboose telling them with confidence bold in his voice that his bed is only for him and for _Church, he’s my best friend, he’s the only one allowed in my bed._

Tucker had just rolled his eyes but knew better than to argue with Caboose. Sometimes, it is just easier than—It is just easier, for them all.

That is how he ends up in a cramped bed with Tucker, both of them on their backs, both of them quiet, both of them drowning in their never-ending silence.

And, because he was also taught he has _nothing to lose_ , Wash gambles with his words, says to the beautiful man next to him, “I’m sorry for what happened.”

Tucker—Wash is not even sure he’s awake; talking to a wall; not much different from when he’s awake—says nothing.

Wash, with bravery painting his tongue, cannot stop. “I’m sorry I convinced Alpha to sacrifice himself. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see him before he—” Inhales. “I’ve had friends die before I could say goodbye and I—I’m sorry. Caboose told me that he did not even remember any of you at first. Epsilon. I know you both wanted Church back, and I’m sorry he left, and I’m sorry that I—”

In the quietest of sounds, Tucker whispers, “Stop.”

And Wash does. Waits, hope sour and bubbling bitter in his stomach.

Like a gift: “I don’t blame you.”

Tucker moves on his side; Wash can feel he’s looking at him, and slowly, he looks back.

“It’s not _your_ fault he… did that. I’m just tired of him coming and going. But I don’t blame you. But just… stop trying to be a leader.”

Wash cannot drown the laughter that rises in his throat. “I don’t want to be one. I wanted to try to make it easier for Caboose, and for you—”

“Well that’s your problem. You try too hard. Just stop trying and go with the flow. We’ve been doing that for years now, and we’re still alive.”

And it’s so _Tucker_ : the nonchalance, the edge of humour in his words, the softest smile agrace his lips. A dangerous part of Wash feels warmth flush through him at the reassurance. A deadly, depraved part of him wants to close the gap between the two and kiss the words off his lips, no armour or built-up walls between them.

Instead, he says, “I’m not trying to replace Church. I’ll never be what he was to the both of you, and I don’t want to be.”

And, because Wash is very good at breaking things, Tucker turns his eyes away from Wash, and he thinks the moment is over, _you ruined any progress you’ve ever made with him; he is never going to want you._

But then he sees a tear escape Tucker’s eyes, something new, something vulnerable, something else The Director never taught him how to handle.

Broken, Tucker says, “It’s so stupid, but he was all I had for years. He’s selfish and always leaving, always chasing after his stupidly strong girlfriend. He never saw that _we_ wanted him to stay, unlike her. I lov—” Stops, abrupt, eyes shut stone-closed. “We loved him, you know.”

The cries seemed to have faltered, staying in his eyes, as he looks back at Wash. It’s beautiful, Wash thinks, and the ghost of Epsilon in his mind hungers over the man’s despair in front of him.

“I don’t… do emotional talks like this. Not with Church and sure as hell not with Caboose.”

Wash, if he was still brave, would say he doesn’t either. Has never told anyone about the shard-horrors in his mind, about how The Director’s face looks like on the brink of pleasure, about how he still has dreams of dying and wakes up disappointed. Maybe if he was Church, if he had absorbed Epsilon into his very being, he’d be selfish with the moment and make it about the nightmares he’s lived through.

But Tucker, somehow and he doesn’t know when, has become his first priority. And because they both have nothing to lose now; because they both have teal-blue ghosts, Wash closes the gap between them and rests his arms around Tucker in a pathetic display of a hug. Feels relief as Tucker moves his forehead against Wash’s shoulder, breathes shaky and shattered.

It is the first time in years that Wash has been held by someone who had no malicious intentions and though he does not ask, he is sure the same holds true for Tucker.

It is the first time in years he awakes from a dream of dying and feels grateful for reality.

 

—

 

It is still not easy. Wash wakes up with hope in his teeth, but the way Tucker pulls himself from his grasp without a word all morning has the hope fall into his throat and—

_Choke. Epsilon dying in his mind: noose around his head, or razor in his hands, or drenched in alcohol, or—_

The hope falls away. The Director should’ve taught him how to accept what fate is.

 

—

 

They’re in the car, hours passed from when Tucker had left his bed. Wash is driving this time, Tucker to his side, Caboose sleeping behind him in the backseat.

It’s as quiet as it was the day before, heat still stifling, choking out any words Wash would say: _did it mean nothing; i know you’re bad at emotions and it’s hard but; did Church used to not talk to you after too._

But, as if he can read his pathetic thoughts, Tucker tells him, “Thank you… for last night.”

For the rest of the day, Wash feels dizzy with ecstasy.

 

—

 

Their friendship isn’t immediate or filled with a blooming of trust and admiration. They both still have their trust issues, they both still do not know how to handle the change in dynamic, they both still sleep with nightmares plaguing their mind.

 

But when Tucker smiles at Wash and makes small talk on their drives, Wash knows he will take whatever it is he can get.


End file.
